


now, all three of us, here

by stellarisms



Category: Free!
Genre: Gen, Introspection
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-05
Updated: 2014-11-05
Packaged: 2018-02-24 04:03:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,521
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2567498
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stellarisms/pseuds/stellarisms
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Makoto thinks of Haruka like he does the ocean at night, thinks of Rin like he does the sky at daybreak.</p><p>And Makoto can only hope to be the earth which holds them together.</p>
            </blockquote>





	now, all three of us, here

**Author's Note:**

  * For [themorninglark](https://archiveofourown.org/users/themorninglark/gifts).



> As soon as I saw the words "(the) Makoto/Rin/Haru dynamic," I knew exactly which prompt I just HAD to fill. 
> 
> I went especially liberal with the "as gen or as m/m as you like" bit b-but. Yes. 
> 
> Interpret this as freely (heh) as you'd like and - to themorninglark and everyone else who reads this - I hope you'll enjoy reading! ♥

Makoto thinks of Haruka like he does the ocean at night.

Shadowed depths and silence and silhouettes over shifting tides, illuminated by the lighthouse on the hillside pier.

But unlike the ocean, Makoto is not afraid.

He never could be.

Not when he knows Haruka as well as he does.

“Haru-chan” is an old habit that’s hard to break.

So is Haruka’s distaste for the habitual.

Even so, they walk side by side from their adjacent houses, to school and back, every day.

Haruka isn’t much for idle chitchat.

He offers a listening ear instead – answers soft and witticisms sharp; when he speaks – confides in Makoto things he would be loath to let anyone else hear.

Touch, too, disturbs the steady waters that lie beneath those quiet depths.

There are times when Haruka does not fight against the rising current.

Haruka, for instance, will tolerate a stranger’s hand clasped on his shoulder.

Haruka will stare inquisitive at Rei reaching out for a balancing grip in the water.

Haruka will acknowledge Nagisa’s nuzzling with an enduring, long-suffering look.

Yet when Rin pushes him against the chain link fence—

“It’s not bruising,” Makoto frowns, letting Haruka roll down his jacket sleeve again, “is it?”

“I pushed him back.” That alone stamps out the worry that flits across Makoto’s visage – if only for the moment. “It’s fine.”

 _You’re not_ , Makoto wants to shout, unable to ignore the hurt that floats to the surface when Haruka repeats himself.

“It’s fine,” Haruka tells him, firmer this time. Makoto remembers they’re still in the swimwear store, Nagisa and Rei several aisles away trying on goggles. “I’m fine, Makoto.”

Haruka’s gaze averts, then, reticence returning.

He’s waiting on confirmation.

“Okay.” Makoto exhales, fussing with the folded edge of Haruka’s sleeve. “It sounds like you’ll need some time apart to sort things out, but— well. We’ve got plenty to focus on with the club. So…let’s focus on that for now.”

He sounds more like a team captain when he talks like that.

“Right.” It doesn’t convince either of them, Makoto knows, but Haruka’s eyes are brighter when they look at him. “We’ll stay focused. Together.”

He’ll be the vigilant lighthouse on the shoreline – as close as the ocean allows him to be – and watch over Haruka from here.

 

* * *

 

Makoto thinks of Rin like he does the sky at sundown.

Exclaiming birds and incandescence and vivid hues, set apart by where its horizon line meets the ocean.

But like the day’s final bursts of daylight, Makoto finds Rin’s energy comforting.

He always has.

It’s a brand of camaraderie Rin recalls in due time.

It’s a learning experience for Rin, to rediscover that he isn’t alone.

A prefectural and regional tournament.

A debilitating loss of equilibrium.

A relay – authorized or not – to remove the cloud cover around Rin’s sunset eyes.

When Rin shakes the water from his skin and all but leaps from the pool – to embrace Haruka, to join Iwatobi in their celebration – Makoto feels nothing but pride.

For Rin, the reason Haruka persisted down this path.

For Haruka, the reason Rin triumphed over his ghosts.

For the both of them, burrowed at either side of him, nesting birds settled on a perch.

Later that week as well, while the three of them are sprawled on futons laid across the tatami floor, Haruka lazing like a cat on Makoto’s chest and starting to doze off.

As for Rin—

“Why is it so friggin’ hot in your room?” Right on schedule, Rin starts wriggling out from under Makoto’s free arm. “And why are you so friggin’ heavy?”

“Be careful, Rin.” Makoto nearly jumps out of his skin when he hears Haruka chime in, not lifting his head from Makoto’s shoulder. “He’s big enough to crush you if you’re not.”

“ _Haru_.”

Rin doesn’t quite snigger but he doesn’t quite cackle either; it’s a sound caught somewhere between the two.

“You guys’re ridiculous.” As Rin nestles closer, Makoto hears him grumble, “Remind me why I even associate with you two again.”

“Because you love us,” Haruka retorts, at the same time as Makoto offers a placating, “Because we’re all friends here.”

Red as his hair is, Rin’s face turns at least three shades redder when he hears them.

Haruka ducks behind Makoto just before the pillow smacks the tallest boy right in the face.

Makoto’s protesting squawk falls short to Rin’s shriek when Haruka lunges at him, retaliating tickling hands and all.

They’re all loud enough, at this point, to wake all the ancestors asleep in the Nanase household once their tussling turns into pillow-tossing.

Even so, Rin is their sky – best viewed while awestruck, hopeful, looking up – and Makoto knows they complement one another better than words can express.

Far better, in fact, when they have a clear view of the ocean to accompany them.

 

* * *

 

Haruka and Rin speak of Makoto like they do swimming competitively.

To them, Makoto is the shore that welcomes their return.

When Haruka needs someone to speak on his behalf, Makoto is never too out of reach.

When Rin needs a counseling presence at the ready, Makoto is never inaccessible.

Every time they swim off somewhere, they find him waiting up.

Waiting on a whimsical thought that Makoto likes to call codependence.

Then again, he knows how dangerous that word is.

He’s used to being depended on, used to people placing him on a pedestal. Complimenting him for things he does unconsciously.

Ren and Ran’s responsible big brother. The Tachibana family’s dutiful son. Iwatobi High’s golden boy.

But he’s no one’s savior.

Nor anyone’s driving force.

He doesn’t deserve any of those lofty titles; if anything, Makoto worries – like he always does, like he really shouldn’t – he’ll be an anchor.

A heavy load that’ll drown them all.

“What’re you saying,” huffs Rin. “You’re not— see, this is what got you into this mess with Haru in the first place.”

“I’m sorry,” Makoto curls into himself. The accusation stings, though no more than the speaker pressed to his ear and his red-rimmed eyelids do.

“I mean,” Rin speaks with sudden gravity. “M’not exactly one to talk. I was kind of an asshat to you guys last year when I was dealing with my own crap. But…”

“But?”

“You’ve gotta speak up,” Rin insists, “when stuff like this comes up, Makoto.”

Remembering the look on Haruka’s face, panic-struck and firework-lit, makes guilt gnaw at him all over again.

“I know.” Makoto bites his quivering lower lip. “I really didn’t know how to tell him. Whenever we’d talk about college, somehow, the timing never felt right.”

“You were fine telling me not even five minutes ago.” On the other line, Rin sounds like he’s frowning. “Why’s it any different for Haru?”

Makoto stops to consider that.

“Haru,” he pauses, pensive, “is my best friend.”

“Guess that means,” there’s a wry amusement to Rin’s cadence, “I’m not that special, huh.”

“No, you are! You are.” Makoto fumbles with the cord of his student ID card. “You’re…both important to me. I might have known Haru a little bit longer, but—”

“But,” Rin teases Makoto a bit, mimicking him, and it elicits a breathless laugh Makoto hadn’t even realized he needed to let out, “what?”

It doesn’t take reflecting on his many reservations to get Makoto to answer this time.

“You can’t measure the distance between the sky and the sea,” Makoto muses, eyes closing, “because they’re endless. At least to the ground that keeps them connected.”

“The hell’re you going on about now?” Even if Rin doesn’t understand, his tone goes gruff and almost shy. “Remember who you’re talking to here. M’not gonna get any of the water analogies Haru would.”

Makoto starts to smile.

“Just,” he entreats, “tell that to Haru once you land in Australia tomorrow. And…thanks, Rin. For being here.”

“You big sap.” It’s Rin’s turn to laugh, incredulous, even if there’s a sheepish sort of elation to it. “Stole the words right out of my mouth.”

It’s Makoto’s turn, then, to move.

“You’re welcome,” Makoto sits up in bed and laughs, full-body and honest. “RinRin.”

“That’s totally foul play and you know it.”

“And yet you still want me to call you my best friend.”

“T-That’s…okay, that’s it. I’m hanging up, Makoto.”

“Love you too, RinRin.”

“ _Ugh_.”

“Have a good night,” Makoto giggles, “RinRin.”

“…You too…” There’s more, tagged on where that rejoinder came from. “Macchan…”

“Hmm? What was that?” He has to do it; too long a time went by since he’s exchanged verbal banter with anyone other than Haruka. “I didn’t hear that last—”

“Good night, Macchan. _God_.”

“Night,” Makoto yawns, pleased lilt as he relaxes in bed and dispels the rest of his worries till the next day’s arrival, “RinRin.”

 

* * *

 

Makoto is grateful for many people.

He’s grateful for Nagisa – tireless cheer and enthusiasm, a spirited type brimming with encouragement any friend would be glad to have at the ready.

He’s grateful for Rei – polite to a fault and loyal beyond measure, an underclassman that any mentor figure would be glad to call their own.

He’s grateful for Sousuke – more sympathetic than his stern gaze belies, a companion to embolden Rin’s passion and Makoto’s in turn.

He’s grateful for Gou-chan, for Amakata-sensei – their endless support, their hard work from behind the curtains no less essential to the swimming club’s lifeblood.

He’s grateful for Coach Sasabe – and Hayato-kun – for reasons unrelated to the happiest days of his last two years in high school.

Makoto never once considered what career path would be best for him before.

When their homeroom teacher gave out those Post-Graduation Intent forms, Makoto had no idea what to do with it.

Could he postpone thinking about those things for now?

Would it be possible to pretend he never received it?

The blank spaces taunted his conscience, haunted his better judgment all throughout those distractible summer months, until he found something he could write in one.

_A teaching degree from a prestigious university that will accept an Iwatobi transfer._

Admitting to his fear of swimming. Reluctance to move past his comfort zones.

It took Hayato-kun’s eyes shining with amazement and a sense of pride, along with offering the option of looking up at the sky while he swam backstroke as the water – and his interim coach’s trustworthy arms – kept him afloat, for Makoto to realize his calling.

When his part-time job was finished, Makoto knew then why his heart ached to hear today would be his last day.

When Hayato-kun thanked him so earnestly, Makoto knew then why he had grown so attached to his ‘students.’

And when his students clung to his legs as he said his goodbyes, hugged his waist in hopes their patient and authoritative _Makoto-sensei_ wouldn’t have to leave—

“A teacher?” Haruka turns to Makoto, hand resting close to his on the balcony railing. “I can see you doing that for a living. It suits you.”

“Does it?” Makoto is surprised. “I never thought about it until…whatever I did came through for Hayato-kun.”

“That’s the thing.” Haruka’s been more forthright since traveling abroad with Rin that week, though there’s a tempered edge to his lips that rings true and familiar. “Most teachers don’t know whether they’re doing something right. They just have to hope.”

“’Entrust in future generations,’” Makoto lifts his index finger, an excellent parody of Amakata-sensei’s trademark pose, “’the change you wish to see in the world!’ —Or something like that.”

“Now I know why,” Haruka snorts, nudging Makoto’s arm through the heavy windbreaker, “Rin calls you ridiculous.”

“You don’t trust me to be serious when I have to be with my kids?” Makoto sends him a sidelong glance and playful grin.

Makoto wants to be a teacher, but he knows he’ll learn from his students the same way he does from the people closest to him.

“I trust you.” A steadfast declaration, steady as Haruka’s stare looking up at him. “Isn’t that enough?”

It’s not quite an apology, Makoto knows, for their miscommunication and argument at the festival a week ago.

“Of course.” But Makoto is grateful, gladder than he can ever find the courage to tell Haruka, and there are cool fingers resting gentle on Makoto’s bare wrist to remind him those ocean depths would welcome him back _anytime_. “I never doubted it.”

(Haruka’s smile, even after Nagisa finds them pulling away while Rei and Rin both trail after Sousuke approaching them, is all the answer Makoto needs.)

 

* * *

 

One fold-out table.

Two shelves dedicated to canned mackerel.

Three coat hooks exactly hanging in the front foyer area.

These are essentials in Makoto and Haruka’s apartments – though not a single visitor, transient or frequent, ever asks why.

“I’m surprised Nagisa hasn’t mentioned it.” Makoto chuckles, a low peal drowned by the whirr of his coffee machine. “He notices everything.”

“Nagisa sees what he wants to see.” It’s with vague indulgence, Makoto recognizes, that Haruka answers. “Says whatever he wants, too.”

“You and Nagisa,” Makoto remarks. Good-natured as usual.

So is Haruka’s tendered smile.

“Lucky for us,” retorts his neighbor, “you and Rei haven’t stopped listening yet.”

When they hear the chime, it’s Haruka who reacts first.

“I got it.” He gets up, stares down Makoto about to step away from the stove, and prompts him not to move with, “Don’t let our dinner burn.”

“Our dinn— _oh_.” Haruka almost wants to tell Makoto that sheepish puppy look isn’t working; unfortunate for both of them, Haruka is as inept at lying as Makoto is secret-keeping. “Go check on who it is for me, please?”

He’s already at the door by the time Makoto asks.

He’s just looked through the peephole when he and Makoto hear, loud and clear:

“Haru.” Sunglasses in the thick of winter. Windswept red strands hanging over the huge frames. A sharp shark-like grin. “What’re you and Makoto cooking in there?”

Whatever reply Rin might have hoped for was lost on Haruka.

“You’re back.” Haruka stops at the (now open) entryway, Makoto padding over after he’s lowered the flame setting.

“Obviously,” Rin’s mouth twitches around his quip. “Tell me something I don’t know.”

“It’s only December,” Haruka points out.

“Uh, no shit. You that desperate to send me back to Australia or what?” Rin tosses his head back, tosses his laughter and his bravado around like always. “I mean, hey, the airport’s open as long as there’s a plane flying in—”

“Welcome back,” Makoto announces when he rounds the corner, one hand resting light on Haruka’s back and the other outstretched to their guest, “Rin.”

Rin’s smile broadens.

Haruka’s gaze softens.

“Yeah,” exhales Rin, pushes his unfurling hand into Makoto’s.  “S’good to be back.”

 

* * *

 

It’s only after he’s taken off his coat and come inside – gentler than Haruka’s assenting hum, swifter than the weight of Rin sweeping against them both for a full-body hug – that Makoto knows why no one’s ever asked.

Why no one’s ever felt the need to question it.

It’s only natural, after all, how they’ve all come to fit into one another’s lives like this.

Like they always have.

Like, Makoto hopes, they always will.

 


End file.
